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The same color as your cheeks when you blush
like when the wind blows you stand tall with a hush
the rose that stands before you, is a self portrait
that only one rose can match the beauty of it
if you leave me I will not miss you at all
all I have to do is look out in my garden, and your face I can recall
but I prefer the real you, and no other or a fake
like a daisy or daffodil or anything anyone can trace
your smile represents the sun shining in your grace
with a glow shining through your body and face
with the other flowers looking like you, makes them enemy foes
but they don't look nothing like my rose . . .
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